


All of this Day

by KorrohShipper



Series: All of these Weeks [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Day 7, Domesticity, F/M, Fluff, I'm sorry I'm late, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steggy Wedding, Steggy Week 2020, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorrohShipper/pseuds/KorrohShipper
Summary: “The institution of marriage does revolutionize sex.”
Relationships: George Barnes & Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter & Chester Phillips & Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Steve Rogers & Howard Stark, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Rebecca Barnes Proctor & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Winnifred Barnes
Series: All of these Weeks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802119
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	All of this Day

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the happy Steggy.

**I. 12:27**

"We have to stop."

"Actually, Steve, we don't really."

Peggy stifled a laughter as he tried to pull away and go back outside to the fire escape. His fiancée, however, had other ideas.

Her arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer, her tongue darting his lips that allowed her to kiss him fuller, much deeper. 

"Stay," she says, panting and voice far too husky that makes the offer so hard to resist and he could feel his insides melting at the idea of spending the night with Peggy and his resolve is—

There is a clatter outside, one of footsteps and hurried movements. A distinct metal sound that reminds Steve of a frying pan hitting a person's head comes to mind and grimaces.

He hears, with his enhanced senses, Angie's sheepish apologies. " _Ooh_ ," he could see the Broadway actress fall back sheepishly, standing down at last. "Sorry. Thought you were Steve."

His friend, Dum Dum, muttered an obscenity which promptly made Angie laugh. "That's a mighty swinging arm there. Cap better watch out."

Despite being aware of the fact that Angie is looking out for him and that Dum Dum is looking for him, Steve really knows that he should get going but Peggy's hands travel south, her fingers making quick work of his belt.

"Peggy," he draws out her name in a strangled hiss, "no, I can't," he keeps his eyes closed. "I can't see you."

She leans up, cheek to cheek as her lips just graze the tip of his ears, "Stay—" she purrs and he feels himself going weak in the knees, "I'll make it worth your while, soldier."

And he contemplates giving up altogether. Any point of pretending to be conventional is laughable—they've slept with one another already and, prior to this day, they've been living under one roof, sleep in the same bed, every single night. And he's getting married to her tomorrow, for crying out loud.

But he has always been superstitious. Even in the future, he could not shake away the habit he grew up with.

Not to mention, he wasn't looking forward to getting bonked with a frying pan on his head courtesy of one Angie Martinelli.

So, he keeps his eyes closed and ducks and pulls away. 

"Tomorrow," he promises, grasping her hand in the dark, "and just imagine how different it will all be."

She gave a laugh. "Different how? Unless sex is suddenly revolutionized by the institution of marriage, I doubt it will be any different."

He slumps against the wall and looks up, finally opening his eyes as he meets the gaze of a New York skyline. "Sure it will—in just a few hours, I'll become Mr. Peggy Carter and it'll be more special because it's going to be the first time I'm going to make love to my wife."

"Or, and this is just a wonderful suggestion that I hope you'll take, darling, we could settle on a preview." He burst out in short fits of giggles and laughter because he just cannot wait. He’s heard of stories of how couples slowly crack under the pressure of a wedding, but it is not the case here, not with him, not when he’s going to marry her.

In all honestly, he couldn’t count the seconds until he is finally right there, up at that altar, with Peggy by his side.

"See you tomorrow?" He carefully looks over his shoulder and locks his eyes into an empty spot in the room where, in the just corner, was her shadow. 

"You better not be late, or I assure you, there will be consequences."

"I'll be there. 8 o'clock in the morning, I'll be there waiting for you." When the shadows moves towards his directions, he shuts his eyes and feels, on his cheek, the palm of her hand and he nearly melts in her touch In a reverent whisper, his voice low and thankful for whatever forces of this universe that conspired to get him to this very moment, to every second of which he is given a second chance, a life with Peggy, "I can't wait to become your husband."

Steve could almost imagine Peggy rolling her eyes but fixing him with that fond look she always gives him when she thinks he is not looking. "I know. Now go, since you aren't taking me up on the offer," a smile bleeds into her words and he chuckles. 

His hand captures hers and he plants a kiss, just on the tip of her knuckles. 

"Night, Peggy."

"Well, it's already 1 in the morning, so, good morning, really," if he could roll his eyes, he would at the quip but softens and feels giddy when she adds, "and for the record, I can't wait to become your wife."

* * *

**II. 1:09**

When the telephone rings, he smiles.

"You're still up."

Without missing a beat, Peggy laughs into the receiver and realizes just how hard it is when he glances to the side of his bed and realizes that she is not beside him. "I could say the same, soldier."

He imagines her, sneaking into the living room where the phone is because Angie confiscated the landline in hopes of sabotaging any attempt of theirs to meet up—which, if their fire escape chat into the morning is any indicator, is a failure—and curling up in the sofa, phone in hand. 

"I can't sleep," he confides with an energetic laugh, a buzz and electricity in his movement that, if he didn't know about the excitement that came from the fact that he is marrying Peggy Carter and is about to begin their lives together in just a few hours, he would have thought that Mjolnir still left some residual power within him. Because honestly, loving Peggy, being loved by her, he knows, far exceeds any super power, even by a strength and power held by the god of thunder.

And he hopes that she knows that, that he is thankful for every second that he spends with her and that he hopes, he really hopes, that he could become worthy of her and the love she has for him.

"How about you? Why are you still up?" he asks instead when he hears her yawn into the phone. 

"I couldn't sleep," she admits with a confidence and shamelessness that he could only be Peggy. "I miss you."

"Well, think about this, once we get through this, you'll have me for as long as you want."

She hums approvingly at the idea. "Well, then, soldier, prepare for a long, long while—forever, and always."

He lets the words wash over him. Forever, and always. He smiles at the declaration, and he thinks he'll love her for as long, too, and if she would allows, even longer.

When she yawns again, he laughs. "Maybe I should hang up," he says softly, not unkindly, "you should get some rest."

"I did try getting some sleep," she points out fondly, "what good that brought me."

"Well, how about I stay with you on the phone?"

He could see her smile, "Alright," she says and he hears fabrics rustling, "what—" a yawn sounds, "—do you have in mind, my darling?"

"I was thinking of the future," but before she could get confused, he laughs to himself, "well, not _the_ future, our future."

"What does our future hold, then, futureman?" she teases even though, she knows, that when it comes to her life, he couldn't even bring himself to find out in the future. It stands to say that when it comes to Peggy Carter, he is surprised, each and every single day. 

"Well, for starters, I'm going to take you on a honeymoon," he laughs when she gives a light squawk of protest. He is thankful for the time he spent with Natasha Romanoff, for while she couldn't get her spy skills to rub off on him, he did learn how to protect and hide sensitive information—this skill is helpful as he plans, in secrecy, the honeymoon and the surprise he has for Peggy.

"You know, if you tell me where we're going, I can better prepare," she says with a mock pointed tone that ends up in a fit of laughter.

"I can't. I've sworn myself to secrecy, besides, it'll knock your socks off."

Then, impishly, she adds, "I like my socks just the way they are, thank you very much."

He laughs louder than he anticipated, and he paused, for a moment, wondering if Becca or Buddy heard him from the apartment next door where they're staying for the meanwhile as they prepare for the wedding. 

"I'll take care of you, every day, for the rest of our lives—I'll cook you breakfast every morning and the dinner every night, come Saturday, I'll take you on a date."

"Even when we're old?"

Without missing a beat, he nods, "Even then, especially then when we're old," he thinks of the time he wastes in the past and future, he won't do that again. Not this time, nothing will be taken for granted. 

"Charmer," she says in a stage whisper, but he catches, at the end of her laugh, a silent addition: "I love you, Steve."

"I love you, too," he says, closing his eyes and relishing as he repeats those words. "When you're sick, I'll take care of you, I'll nurse you back to health. When you need someone to talk to about work, I'll always listen—I'll become the best husband I can be and, when the time comes, the best father I can be."

There is no answer from the other side of the line and a breath of air trickles out of his lips, unaware that he had been holding in his breath. 

"I love you, Peggy Carter—forever, and always."

* * *

**III. 2:12**

When he sleeps, he dreams of their wedding, of their life together.

Steve dreams that he watches how Peggy changes the world.

He also dreams of his future, of what is to come. He dreams that, somewhere, Nat is happy that he finally took that chance and lived the life she always wanted him to have.

He dreams of kids, raising them, of lazy Sunday morning naps or little stolen kisses from Peggy here and there. 

He dreams of a life and he is sleeping with a smile on his face because in a few hours, this dream will become a reality.

* * *

**IV. 3:47**

The pillow on the other side of the bed makes its way towards Steve arms and he holds it in a tight embrace. 

His restlessness melts into a steady sleep that he thinks he melts right into. Subconsciously, he imagines, later, it will be his wife who he holds in his arms.

* * *

**V. 4:49**

He is lucky that his cell regeneration accounts for faster exhaustion recovery and that he is feels energized and well-rested even if he only slept for roughly 2 and a half hours.

When he wakes up, the sky is still dark and the city, for all of its eternal buzz, is quiet and calm.

A quick brush of his teeth and a splash of water against his face to ward off sleepiness, Steve found himself sitting in front of his desk and staring at a blank piece of paper—there are already crumpled up balls of papers thrown across the room, evidence of his attempts to put into words his love for Peggy.

His vows, when written, they feel so empty and redundant in words. He feels as though he could write more than 32 pages worth of his vows and still, they feel as though they are not enough.

But he also remembers the future.

He’s spent all his life there, preparing for one thing only to be blindsided at the last minute. But each time he is knocked down to his feet, he finds, in the moment, he can stand right back up.

There is a picture, on his desk. It is a candid shot of Peggy—the photographer, having spent a decade in the future where he has grown accustomed to phones with three cameras that can auto-focus and had a built in stabilizer, fumbles to take the photograph, but her eyes just about twinkles as she laughs, he imagines her nose scrunching up at a bad joke courtesy of Angie but rolls her eyes fondly.

With one last look, he crumples up the paper with a smile.

There is a feeling that burgeons on inside of him. A feeling that he grows with confidence with every passing minute.

When he is up there, standing before her, meeting her gaze, ready to marry her with God as his witness, the words will come, and if the chance comes that the words do not, he thinks that maybe the look on his face will tell her everything she needs to know.

* * *

**VI. 5:54**

Even before he could get off his chair, the door to his room bursts open.

“Ma!” yells Becca, laying out his ironed dress uniform on the bed. “He’s up!”

There is already an animated chatter that buzzes with an electricity in his living room. Pa George is in the kitchen, frying what smells like a healthy amount of eggs to go around for everyone in the apartment, Ma Winnie is on the phone making last-minute arrangements and confirmations with either the florist or the catering for the wedding—

“Stevie!” they all turned to his direction and greeted.

Buddy, on the other hand, went up to him and reached out a white mug, “So, I know you probably didn’t get to sleep much, so here—drink up!” it was coffee. “Made it just the way you like it: indigestible by the normal human stomach.”

Becca stifled a laugh while Pa George gave a hearty chuckle form the stove. “Thanks, Buddy.”

Ma Winnie came over to him and gave him this look, this watery-eyed smile that had her bottom lip quivering. “Look at you,” she says, voice heavy and thick with emotion, “you’re all grown up—” she drops a gaze at all of her children around her, “—all of you.”

“Ah, Ma!” he takes her into an embrace.

“I just wish Sarah was here to see you off, is all.”

“I know, Ma. She would have loved to be here.”

Buddy laughs before clasping on his bicep. “Yeah, yeah, save the crying for the wedding—drink your coffee up, can’t have the groom yawning throughout the ceremony!”

Steve laughs because he thinks it is impossible but he downs the coffee in one big gulp and his fingers are trembling, buzzing with an energy that he does not truly know where it came from: the fact that he drank a coffee caffeinated enough to wake all of New York in one gulp or the fact that today is the day he is going to become Mr. Peggy Carter, her husband, after all of these years, he is here finally.

“Ah, no!” Buddy playfully groaned, leaning towards his sister in a stage whisper loud enough even for the two-year-old Jimmy, who is going to serve as their ring bearer, to hear, “Look at him, Becca! He’s got that goopy smile and that lovesick puppy look on his face; he hasn’t even seen her yet!”

* * *

**VII. 6:45**

“Aren’t you looking sharp?”

Steve inspects his reflection in the mirror.

He is fully-shaven, his long-by-1940’s-standard hair is trimmed down to a clean cut and, when he sees himself in the mirror, he is genuinely shocked because for a moment he thinks he sees the young man who entered fought battles and not the veteran who fought through wars.

He twists and looks over his shoulder and smiles.

“You clean up nice, my friend.”

Buddy is dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that fits him like a glove. He gives a mock spin for him and Steve laughs at his younger brother’s antics. “So, what do you think?”

“You’re giving me a run for my money.”

“What?” he squawks, “With Peggy?” Buddy laughs, a real, hearty, hold-your-stomach-in laughter, “That dame’s only got eyes for you, Stevie, and besides, you’re looking real fine in that outfit.”

“I can’t go up there and look like I just rolled out of bed, now can I?”

“No, you can’t,” there is something in Buddy’s eyes that draws his attention, a lingering sadness that lets his smile fall off his face.

“Hey,” he says, turning so he could look at his younger brother, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Buddy waved off dismissively.

Steve raised an unimpressed brow. “Hell if it’s nothing, what is it? Buddy, come on, you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just that,” he exhales, glancing at the mirror, fixing the blazer into place, “I know that you love me and all and that I’m basically your kid brother—”

“You _are_ my brother, Buddy—”

“It’s just that we always thought that, when this day comes, when you find that dame you’ll fall head over heels for, the man who’ll be up there as your best man is Bucky.”

Steve fell silent, for a moment.

He wouldn’t lie. The moment he knew he was in love with Peggy, back when they were still fighting Hydra in the war, that when he thought of a future, of a life after the war with Peggy, it started with a wedding with Bucky by his side.

So far, even though he knows that the Ancient One told him that it is a closed loop, he does not stop his efforts to find him. It is though, however, that the universe is conspiring to maintain this balance and that, even with the foreknowledge of the future on his side, each time he thinks he gains traction in finding Bucky, he fails and ends up with nothing.

The same went with trying to locate the Valkyrie—based on the currents and the unstable shifts in temperature, there is no definitive location to be given. He tries, no doubt, but it eludes him.

“I’ll find him. One day, I promise.”

Buddy smiles. “I know you will,” then, he brightens up when he reaches into the insides of his jacket and produces a flask. Steve gave the younger man a knowing smile because they both know how Ma Winnie is with drinking.

“What do you say to a little liquid courage?”

“Actually, that has no effect on me.”

Buddy shrugs. “Well, more for me,” he takes a gulp before nudging Steve towards the door. “Come on, let’s get both of our asses to that church. Peggy’s a great girl and all, don’t get me wrong, pal, but between you and me, I wouldn’t get on the receiving end of her anger, I mean, she looks like she could pop a cap on anyone who does her wrong.”

At that, Steve laughs as he gathers Buddy outside into the living room where everyone’s dressed up and ready to leave for the church. His gaze lingers on the closet near the guest bath where, hidden along the top shelf, is his shield with four bullet dents.

“Actually, you’re not wrong about that one.”

* * *

**VIII. 7:46**

Even though Howard is lamenting the loss of his rightful title as the best man, he is greeted with a tight embrace and a bright grin.

They watch as a team of SI crew set up a camera near the door and one at the end to video the wedding. While Steve knows that this is a grand and expensive gesture, he couldn’t really bring himself to say no when he imagines a future where he would sit down his kids and let them watch the day where he marries their mother.

“Nothing short of a miracle, I say.” Howard says, jarring him out of his thoughts, as he inspects the church, the number of people filling in the pews.

Mr. Jarvis, who will soon leave the premises to fetch Peggy, is unable to resist a jab at his employer, “A miracle regarding what, sir, Miss Carter and Captain Rogers’ nuptials or your getting up before the break of noon?”

“Hey!” Howard protests, but he shakes it off with a grin before letting the comment slide altogether. “Well, he ain’t wrong.”

“No, he’s not.” Steve says offhandedly, occasionally waving at people who spots him, giving them a small but giddy smile. Just a few more minutes.

Howard gives a low whistle. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this—I mean, anyone with eyes can see that you and Peggy are made for one another, but. . .after everything you’ve both been through, you’d think it’s near impossible but here we are and it’s finally happening.”

Steve chuckles and his eyes crinkle in a smile, “What can I say, I got the girl,” there was a time, he thinks, that this version of his reality would only exist in a dream. He remembers the farm, how Clint was with his family.

Something in him had snapped that day. There was a part inside of him that died that day, when he realized what was truly happening to him—in front of him, Clint’s family, his kids, the farm, all of that stood as a reminder to what he had given up.

He had never felt so jealous before, honestly.

“You really look like you’re ready to marry her.”

“I am,” he answers steadily and readily. “People like us are always going to get into trouble. Having someone we love by our side just makes getting out of trouble so much easier when we have something to fight getting back to, someone to fight for.”

Howard gave him this long, dissecting look. “You know, I used to be able to read you like an open book.”

“Yeah?” his eyebrow rose. “What about now?”

Howard chuckled, “You still are, pal.” He takes him in for one last embrace when their officiant, Lt. General Chester Phillips arrives and motions that they can begin the ceremony.

“To your happy ending, pal.”

* * *

**IX. 8:00**

There is a string quartet in the choir section and when they began to play, Steve won’t lie that his eyes began to water.

As Buddy walked ahead, he held out his arms for both Pa George and Ma Winnie. “While my folks couldn’t be here,” his voice is low because Steve couldn’t trust himself to make sure that he wouldn’t break into a soft cry, “I couldn’t imagine this day without the both of you.”

With Pa George to his right and Ma Winnie to his left, they made their way to the end of the aisle. Pa George gave him a watery-chuckle, clasping his shoulder with a firm pat before going to his seat. Ma Winnie leans over and pressed her lips, quivering in the slightest, into his cheek.

“My boy,” she says, “this is it.”

He nods, already feeling the nerves in his body burst in shorts sparks as he anticipates her. “I know. Thank you, Ma.”

She gives him one last look before taking her seat beside Pa George.

Rich Proctor comes in next, with little Jimmy in his arms, the rings held snugly in both the son and the father’s hold.

When Angie walked in, Howard by her side, followed by Mr. Jarvis and Ana, the doors are closed.

There is a brief moment where nothing is heard, where no one moves and Steve tries to steady to heart and his shaking hands—

The doors split into two and a crack of light bleeds into the room.

It is blinding and he releases a shaky breath and she does come into view—God, he thinks, she is perfect. 

There is a bouquet in her hands, her face is veiled, and the light that shines behind her casts a golden glow around her.

He smiles widely, so much that he thinks, later on, his cheeks will get sore from this single moment, but he could not help it in the slightest when his lower lip quivers, when his vision blurs as she walks down the aisle.

Steve’s breath hitches—the beam of light just ceases at this right angle where he sees a glimpse of her face.

The music holds on a note before reaching a finishing crescendo when she arrives, standing in front of him, her gaze boring into his eyes.

Peggy reaches out for his hands and when they do stand beside each other, hand in hand, he is breathless when he says, “ _Hi_.”

In a barely contained happiness and excitement, she gives him that same ruby-red lipped. “Are you ready to become Mr. Peggy Carter?”

“Forever, and always.”

* * *

**X. 9:18**

“Does anybody object to this—”

Peggy sharply, but not unkindly, cuts off their former CO and current director of SHIELD. “Oh, no,” she says, arching a brow, taking a brief glance at their guests, particularly at the now grinning members of the Howling Commandos, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not doing that.”

Chet Phillips was clearly amused, raising a brow but said nothing else apart from a twitching lip.

“Well, then, I believe you’ve prepared your own vows?” the words sound almost foreign coming from the him, but he finishes this question with a smile and gestures to him.

Almost automatically, he fished from his pockets a napkin. There were words scribbled unto it, the ink bleeding into the edge, but legible, nonetheless.

He twisted, from side to side, unable to start, unable to say anything.

Steve glanced at the paper, flicking through the words and each and every time he bounces off from one line to another until he saw, on his arm, her hands, her fingernails painted red.

Instead, he laughed. “I tried writing mine,” to that, their guests laughed, particularly the Howling Commandos but Howard’s chuckle cut above from the rest, “but I realized that I didn’t need to.”

With his free hand, he fished a small disc and pressed it against her palm, “I guess, if you make it simple enough, life is marked by two things: being lost, and being found.”

Steve allowed her a moment to withdraw her hand and examine the metal disc. “Steve. . .”

“When I was young, I was lost—from when I was a kid to when I woke up in a world I didn’t know, I was lost.” Peggy switched her gaze between him and the compass. “What I’m trying to say is that, in a world like ours, it’s so easy to get lost that sometimes, we forget that we can be found.”

He laughs when he realizes as he mulls over the words, that it felt right. “For the longest time, I think I lost faith that I’d ever be found and then you happened.”

He reached for her free hand and pressed his lips against the tip of her fingers. “You found me, Peggy Carter. When no one else did, when I thought no one else would. Whenever I’m lost,” Steve smiled uncontrollably as Peggy ran her thumb against the casing of the compass, “you’ve always been my true north, my anchor, my rock. . .my constant.”

“You found me, as a person, as a friend, as the right partner, as the love of my life, as home. I love you, Peggy Carter. You are the light that brightens up my world, the smile that captures me time and time again every time I am lucky to see you, to be with you and I hope that one day that I can become worthy of your love.”

With a giddiness and happiness that he couldn’t contain, he continued. “Peggy Carter, I’ll listen to you, help and support you through whatever that comes our way, I’ll be by your side when you need me to, and if you’ll have me—”

‘ _Always_ ,’ she mouths as he took her hand.

“When you find yourself lost,” with each passing second, the shakiness in his hands grow steadier, his love shining brightly in his eyes, each passing second feeling more right than the one before. “I promise I will be there to find you, just as you found me, Peggy. I will love you, until the end of my days, _forever, and always_.”

And he thinks of all the time they spent, all the history that is between them, from their first meeting, to how he literally fell in love with her after she had punched Gilmore Hodge for getting fresh with her. He thinks of all the time, even after he’s been given the super serum, of how nobody truly sees him.

Nobody but her.

All of those moments, he thinks as he looks up to the high vaulted ceiling of the church, tears in his eyes, he thanks whatever power, whatever deity there is, was, or ever will be because he is here in this exact moment, marrying the woman he has loved since 1945 to 2023 and back to 1949.

“In 1942, there was a mission that changed my life,” Peggy, with a flip of the wrist, tugged on the ends of her bouquet and revealed—

“No—” he couldn’t help but interrupt, marveling at it. “ _You kept this_?” his voice broke as he examined the device that he once held in what felt like a lifetime ago.

“This was the transponder that Steve had when he had set out to save over a third of the 107th Infantry. Enemy fire had rendered it unusable, but at the time, the morning after, I didn’t know that.”

Chet Phillips gave a small, reminiscent smile, eyes crinkling at the memory. “Of course, even with the threat of my job, I couldn’t bring myself to regret any of it. I had faith and whatever the consequence may be, I held on to that.”

She cleared her throat with a cough, holding on to his hand, “Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. When you came back, the 107th marching behind you, when you showed me that transponder, it was the moment I knew that with you by my side, anything was possible.”

Peggy glanced down at the compass in her hand and smiled. “The world may see you as a hero, as Captain America, but you, Steve Rogers, you’re my hero. I think I’ve fallen in love with you when you set yourself apart from those recruits, clambering to get the flag and you’ve outsmarted them all. I fell in love with your good heart when you jumped over that grenade back in boot camp. Or when you always believe in the good of this world, to fight and stand up for it, to have found me, my darling—”

Steve lets a happy tear fall from his eyes. “ _Peggy_. . .”

“And I am so happy,” her voice breaks and her lips, “ _excited_ and honored to be standing here with you, to marry you.” She whispers, “I love you, Steve, my darling, my right partner.”

She clears her throat with a cough. “Now, I can’t say for what the future holds,” he chuckles at her pointed tone because, fighting back a cheeky grin, “or the rest of our days for that matter, but all I know is that we’ve been given a miraculous second chance, and I will cherish you, love you, every hour of my life, every passing minute.”

Steve tries to wrangle the grin he has by biting the insides of his cheek but he fails, giving out a watery chuckle as she continued, “I cannot wait, my darling, to start out the beginning of the rest of our lives. . .together.”

“Together.”

Chet Phillips motioned for the rings and Steve, with shaky hands, his fingers grew with a steady pace each passing moment as he took the ring and slid the golden band to her finger.

Akin to a puppy, he buzzed with a joy and energy when his own ring now rested in her fingers. The way it slid unto his finger, the cold and cool band now glistening in the light that reflected off of it. He beamed when it finally rested at the base of his hand, the way it wrapped around his finger, the way she twisted it unto his hand.

“By the power vested in me—” Chet gave them a look where he had been lost, drunk in the gaze of her and groaned, albeit good-naturedly before waving his hand dismissively. “Just kiss.”

The church rang out in laughter, the both of them included, leaning down and taking her lips into his. Claps sounded, a whistle probably from the Howling Commandos.

He smiled into the kiss, unable to open his eyes as he rested his forehead on hers. “Would you look at that,” says Peggy, a tad bit breathless, “you might just be right after all.”

“About what?”

“If the institution of marriage makes kissing all the better, just imagine what sex would be?” he does not have enough time to answer the question when she takes his lips into her own.

“Finally _Mr. Carter_ , are we?”

“Always for you, _Mrs. Rogers_.”

* * *

**XI. 10:48**

When they exit the church, there is a rain of rice.

A white Aston Martin DB1 was parked just outside. Howard, tightly pressed among the well-wishers, tossed a set of keys to his direction.

“Have fun, you kids!”

At the back of the roadster, there tin cans attached by straw. The banner fixed to the bumper, however, takes the cake.

“Howard should not be left in charge of these things,” she laughed into his ear as he helped her into the car, tossing the keys to her.

“I mean, it’s been a long while to get here.”

“I suppose.”

He takes one last look before sitting shotgun.

“ _Finally married_. I mean he’s not wrong.”

* * *

**XII. 11:59**

They take photos in front of the church and Steve thinks that the photographer is a bit liberal in taking candid shots, and he can’t wait for the photos to be developed.

“You ready to start the rest of our lives?”

“I’ve always been ready.”

When he leaned in, taking her lips for another kiss, he thinks he hears the camera snaps and he doesn’t really care, not at the moment.

In fact, he tilts his head in an angle to kiss her properly, fully, and deeper.

When they part, he is sure, if he was back in the future, that his friends would tease him for practically having heart-shaped emojis shooting out of his eyes.

He sighs, contently.

 _To heart-shaped emojis shooting out of his eyes_.

* * *

**XIII. 12:23**

There is a rush in every announcement. An ecstasy that Steve knows will never fade for as long as he is alive whenever it is called out:

“Mr. and Mrs. Stephen and Peggy Wilson!”

Peggy shot Howard a pointed look. “Still Carter!”

While he settled for a different man’s name, holding it deeper in his heart, what they’d whisper just after the wedding, he says it back.

“You sure there, Mrs. Rogers?”

“Positive, husband.”

And he laughs, a bright and persistent bubbling in his stomach that rises up to his chest because he cannot believe it. Husband to Peggy Carter.

* * *

**XIV. 1:45**

When Buddy stepped up to the mic, he knew he had made the right choice.

He ends the toast with well-wishes to both him and Peggy. Buddy gestures towards the table where the entire Barnes family sat, all of them delivering the same sentiment—Peggy is family now.

But before he would go down, Steve is forever reminded of Bucky when Buddy gives a mischievous smirk at Howard.

“Told you, Mr. Stark—” Steve almost choked on his champagne. _Queens_ , he thought, “—I’d be Steve’s best man.”

Howard, already drunk, bellows with a drunken smile, “Only ‘cause you stole it—” he hiccups in a great intake of air, “—kid!”

* * *

**XV. 2:31**

At this point, Steve does not question how Howard works, he just does.

Kitty Kallen is on the stage, with Harry James and his Orchestra playing a familiar tune. When he asked, a few moments later, Hoard shrugged. “I know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone—” he winks with a smirk, “—besides, my pal and her fella’s getting married!”

The smooth brass rings in the room as he takes her hand in his.

He leads them to the dancefloor, its surroundings dimly lit in a mood lighting.

Steve rests his hand on her waist, and he takes in her vision—she is a goddess, perfection.

“Are you ready to dance with me for the rest of your life, soldier?”

He smiles, nodding slowly before letting his body sway to the music alongside hers.

“Forever,” he says in a reverent whisper, “and always.”

* * *

**XVI. 3:58**

Despite receiving dares, Steve does not attempt to smear Peggy’s face with cake.

His wife—he thinks giddily, _his wife_ —however, does not have any scruples with smearing cake to his face.

* * *

**XVII. 4:34**

“Thank you for everything, Howard.”

Steve chances a glance at the entire reception hall, now emptied and void of their guests. The Howling Commandos, however, remained and were chatting with Peggy.

“Hey, pal?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I ever build a flying car?”

He thinks of the prototype Tony has made, the one that sits in the corner of his garage. For a moment, he thinks of telling the truth when he shrugs. “Eh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

**XVIII. 5:19**

The car, apparently, is a gift.

While he knows, in the long run, he’d have to return it to Howard for practicality’s sake, Steve couldn’t help but admire the sleek roadster. The elegance of these vintage cars, its striking figure is something, even in the future, they cannot replicate.

Last of the gifts had been transported to their home in New Jersey and Howard bid them a farewell as they make their long drive back home.

* * *

**XIX. 6:48**

New York does not—or does—disappoint with its traffic.

Steve chances a glance at the passenger side and does not attempt to hide the smile that crept unto his lips when he sees her, asleep against his shoulder.

* * *

**XX. 7:42**

Peggy is adamant that it happened only because she is tired.

But he could see the small smile on her face when he carried her over the threshold.

“Just you wait,” Peggy promises, “you’ll get your turn.”

“You mean you’ll carry me over the threshold?”

“Of course, my darling.”

* * *

**XXI. 8:25**

Sleeping, knowing he is married to the love of his life, is both an energizer and a calm that steadies him.

“Hey, there, soldier.”

An eye blinks open and he sees Peggy, standing in the middle of the door, a warm smile to her face.

“Come on,” she says, helping him up, taking his hand into hers.

“What’re you doing?” he thinks back to when they arrived home. “You’re not really serious about carrying me over the threshold, hon?”

Peggy shoots him a fond look at the term of endearment. “Well, not now without reinforcement.” She says with a twinkle in her voice, “It’s a different matter altogether, now if you’ll just get up, husband.”

“Alright, wife.”

Though his body protests the sudden rise, there is a different jolt of energy that shoots through his body when Peggy, barely containing peeps of laughter here and there, leads them to the living room area.

“What’s this?”

“I think,” she says, plopping down the pin to the record, a sweet, slow melody playing, filling the room, “it’s time we christen the house. Dance with me, my darling?”

He takes her hand and presses it against his chest, just above his beating heart.

“Always.”

* * *

**XXII. 9:12**

Instead of heating up food or ordering in, they pop a bottle of wine and drink in front of the fireplace, exchanging sweet nothings as the minutes bleed into hours, as he waits for the hours to bleed into days.

He waits, in pleasant anticipation, in an excitement that courses through his veins, that he cannot wait for their tomorrow.

* * *

**XXIII. 10:08**

When Peggy grumbled, Steve knew immediately that it must have been from Howard.

“Of course, he would gift us a book on sex.” _Married Life and Happiness_ , written by Dr. Robinson, just by the title, was enough to ward him off with a grimace, steadily tossing over the book to the return pile.

However, the book landed with an uneven angle and ended up opening up a random page. They both tilted their heads towards the page. “It’s very graphic,” he notes, surprised that a book written back in 1922 could be so visual.

“Hold on,” Peggy says, slamming her hand against the edge of the book, tearing the page off, “this might prove interesting to send to Howard as a joke.”

While Peggy rambled on about a plan to make Howard blush, he sat there, watched as Peggy was soaked in a warm, golden light from the fire.

_‘God, I love this woman.’_

* * *

**XXIV. 11:31**

The deconstruction of the day arrives in the bedroom where everything, slowly, goes off.

“Steve?”

His mouth is dry but he nods, nonetheless. “Yeah, Peg?”

“Make love to me.”

* * *

**(+1) XXV. 12:56**

He is out of breath when Peggy lets out a laugh.

“What?”

“Would you look at that,” she exclaims as he collapses beside her, Peggy snuggling to his side, hand splayed across his chest. “The institution of marriage does revolutionize sex.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am a writer of my word. This is the Day 7 I've been working on. Trust me, this series? Far from over. Buckle up.


End file.
